


Throw Like A Girl

by jujubean



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Always a girl!Steve, Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Stella Rogers - Freeform, Temporary Character Death, preserum steve, this will hurt eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-08-28 12:36:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8446033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujubean/pseuds/jujubean
Summary: Stella Rogers has always been...rough. The boys of the neighborhood broke out of their unwillingness to hit a girl pretty quick when confronted with her and that's just the way she likes it. This doesn't mean she dislikes curling her hair or dresses or nice smells. She just also enjoys a great game of baseball and a well thrown punch. She's a girl and the fact that people see girls as weak is right up there with people thinking asthmatics are scared: irrelevant. Stella Rogers has never felt the need to make a statement about it. She has more important things to do, like proving herself and adapting to life as the best friend of Bucky Barnes. (Bucky's big on excitement, there's always something new to process) Captain Stella Rogers may feel differently.





	1. Not Your Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Sorry I didn't tag this much, there isn't really anything to warn about. (I also haven't really eaten today and can't think of any other relevant tags) I do have a thing for angst, so if you're looking for solid fluff, this probably won't be it. Please give feedback, sustains me. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Visit me on tumblr if you'd like, I'm Jujutherubberduckie.
> 
> OH And shoutout to Byakuya (waxingwaning-foodnthought on tumblr) for the beta assist. He helps me figure out what to Google in order to answer my very vague questions. I also wake him up at terrible hours and force him to read really long fanfic. He's a saint.

Stella Rogers was five foot nothin’ and 90 pounds after she ate so much she couldn’t move. While perpetually sick, she managed to be the kindest person Bucky had ever met in his life. It was Bucky’s understandin’ that Stella was born to die young ‘cause the angels had put too much light in her. It burned through her body, makin’ everything work opposite the way it was supposed to, ‘cept for her mind. That light shone through her smile and her kindness and the way Stella laughed when she was delighted. But see, Stella Rogers got tired of her body always stoppin’ her from spreadin’ that light all the way ‘round.

So she ended up bein’ a right _bastard_ when she wanted to be: quick to talk and let her mouth get her into all kinds of trouble, unrepentant the whole while. And if she needed her fists to get her out of a mess- weakness or propriety be damned- she was going to fight. Somehow, Bucky always got her out of trouble, though that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be a right bastard to him. He quickly learned how to dish it right back. Honestly, it confused him. How could people  be faced with Stella and not want to lock her in a padded room? Didn’t anyone want to know what her face looked like when it wasn’t painted black or blue? They’d been friends for, hell, six years now and he didn’t know what her lips looked like when they weren’t split from a fist or just plain being ill.

As angry as she could be, as beat up as she got, Stella had a hell of a smile. When she was happy and her body didn’t hurt too bad, Bucky could tell a joke or surprise her, and Stella would just light up. She’d blush a little bit, smile so the corners of her eyes crinkled and if you looked closely you could see where her tooth had gotten knocked out (almost but not quite in the back). Bucky knew when to expect it even though that smile took his breath each and every time. But today was different.

They were 12 years old and had just beaten the tar out of the Mackenzie brothers. Well, Bucky had beaten them and Stella had exercised the right to duck around and take out kneecaps at her leisure. Bucky had bet her a half penny that she couldn’t go a week without a shiner. Three days in and she was “winning.” Her blue eyes only had a bit of gray below them from not sleeping too great, but Stella _had_ managed to get socked in the jaw one good time. She wore black and blue on her cheek the way pinups wore rogue. He tried not to find it charming.

Standing there, watching the Mackenzie brothers run away with their tails between their legs, Bucky felt invincible and knew Stella did too by the way her head was tilted a bit to the side. It was Rogers-ese for “I did exactly what I came to do an’ I’d do it again, jus’ you try me.” The brothers had been harassing Stella for having her hair pinned up for once, calling her vulgar names as if Bucky couldn’t take all of ‘em. As if Stella wouldn’t get hers for fear of droppin’ a curl. Now, Stella stood bonier than an old chicken; dirt all up the side of her dress, with her hair half pinned up, half in her face. She turned to Bucky and grinned a shark’s smile with all of her teeth.

“You’re gonna have to pay up soon, Buck. I still ain’t got hit in the eye.” Stella bragged, triumphant even if she was wheezing a little. Not enough to worry. Bucky blinked and in a snapshot moment took her in from head to toe. Bruised knuckles, dirty and fearless, she was the most beautiful, shamelessly real thing he’d ever seen. And Bucky realized that he could live every day of his life beating faces in and listening close for her lungs- just to see her smile like that once a year. Through the rush of his blood, he heard the teasing of the neighborhood and his common reply: _yeah, but if I gotta marry her, I gotta kiss her._ If he kissed Stella right then, he’d taste blood and sunlight. He’d also get a shiner for being an idiot, so Bucky pulled up his cockiest smile.

“Only took ya half a decade to learn how to duck, Stell. I dunno if that’s anythin’ to be proud about.” Bucky replied, his smile becoming more genuine with her laugh and the expected shove. He threw his arm around her shoulder and pretended to lean. Stella gamely took the bit of weight he gave her. “Carry me home, doll. Maybe Ma won’t put more blood on my shirt if you nurse me.”

“I’m not your girl, Buck. An’ I’m not gettin’ between you and your Ma. If you’da let me take a hit, you wouldn’t be so busted.” He could hear the eye roll even as her skinny arm went around his waist and she pulled him toward the end of the alley. They were twelve and invincible and she was a liar just as much as he’d been twenty seconds ago. But that was alright. Bucky didn’t want to spend his days giving a damn what anybody else did and Stella probably wouldn’t have the patience to prove herself to a guy and fall in love with him at the same time. They had plenty of time to figure it out.

***

Bucky Barnes had shot up like a weed, turned from scrawny to lean, and all the girls in the neighborhood knew it. This was not necessarily a problem, from Stella’s point of view. She’d been waiting for them to realize that all the mooks together couldn’t make up half as good a man as James Buchanan Barnes. He just happened to be a touch nicer to look at now- which _shouldn’t_ really matter ‘cause your face didn’t pitch a ball or throw a punch for you. What Stella _minded_ was that she was still five foot nothin’ and 90 pounds soaking wet with a bag of _fucking_ groceries. Her Ma called her ‘delicate of stature’ and that’s all well and good if she’d’ve been _tall_ like her Ma. Stella’s Ma was willowy and her every move looked like she was dancing some kind of ballet, every step flowing into the next with her body perfectly balanced. While Bucky promised on the Dodgers’ mitts that Stella moved the same way, it didn’t much matter if she was still short as hell and thin enough to slip through barbed wire. She wouldn’t be any kind of normal looking until she shot up like a goddamn weed and gathered a touch more muscle than a stray cat.

At 15 years old, if this had been the most of Stella’s problem’s that would have been swell. Same complaint, different year, and she hadn’t really believed her Ma about the magic of puberty anyway. It started with her menses, and that’s a bad omen if she’d ever experienced one. It was like a guaranteed flu for a week, once a month, and that didn’t mean she couldn’t get the actual flu at the same time. Let’s not mention the tits that hurt like the blazes and barely even existed for all that. No, Stella hadn’t gotten any more healthy looking, puberty sucked eggs, and she could probably have won a bet on that if Bucky wasn’t on a “Think happy thoughts, Stell.” kick.

The actual problem in all of this was that James Buchanan Barnes now thought he was the slickest cat this side of the bridge. The girls swooned when he tilted his chin, so he did it _all of the time_ now. Bucky always had mannerisms. He and Stella had long ago developed a way to talk without speaking, something that came in handy when her ear went to hell. Now, Buck tilting his chin meant “heya, doll” and the most sarcastic of all “aw, shucks” and “can a fella have a kiss?” Whatever happened to the simple “I’m having a good day and I have a terrible plan, let’s go”? And, alright, there were differences enough that she could tell which one he was saying, but why did he have to go and “heya, doll” at _her?_ Why did he have to give her the “aw, shucks” and pair it with that lazy drawl that he learned as a direct response to Stella’s own too-sweet sarcasm? Most importantly, _why did Stella care?_

The whole situation put Stella in a shit mood and messed with her stomach something terrible. Not that she’d ever tell Buck it was his fault, ‘cause the idiot would probably do something drastic like start avoiding her. Besides-

“Stell!” She didn’t shiver, damnit all to Hell, she didn’t.

“I liked you better when you squeaked, Buck.” she replied, not even bothering to turn. Bucky fell into step on her left.

“I liked _you_ better when you had the sense not to walk home by yourself, punk.” he replied gamely. She had started off by herself because she saw him make eye contact with Betty Farelli, it had nothing to do with- “If you were ready to go, you coulda just said.”

“Right. If you looked up from her girls long enough.” Stella made her voice as dry as she could. Yes, she knew. Walking part of the way herself had absolutely nothing to do with pettiness. It wasn’t like Bucky looked up, noticed she was gone, and abandoned Betty without a word. That wasn’t more satisfying than making eye contact and letting Buck make his excuses.

It wasn’t.

“I was waitin’ on a kick to the shin.” Stella looked up and leaned back a bit to see his crooked smile. Her head was almost tucked into his elbow like this. She could see the crinkles next to his eyes and the chip in his front tooth. All of a sudden Stella wanted to taste that cocky smile and she knew it would be perfect. Perfect like feeling James Buchanan Barnes step into her left side or watching him throw a solid punch. Perfect like being _seen_ , not as delicate, as sturdy and _indomitable_.

But Stella Rogers was not meant to be James Buchanan Barnes’ girl. She wasn’t tall and busty or a good Catholic girl, or lovely and sweet. She was a bag of bones with an attitude and ten shades of bruise at any given moment. Bucky was perfect and the moment was perfect, but this moment wasn’t hers to have. Keeping step with him, Stella made a skipping hop, kicking Bucky’s shin with her heel. He shouted and tripped, while she twisted out from under his arm and kept walking.

“I ain’t your girl to teach you manners, jerk. Next time keep your eyes in your head or I’ll find trouble without ya.” She called over her shoulder. Counting down the seconds until he finished cursing a blue streak. Bucky’s arm returned to her shoulders and he shook her a bit. No, she wasn’t meant to be his girl, but this was enough.


	2. Between Us and God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG thank you guys for comments and kudos! Please keep them coming! I've got solid plans for the whole thing, I promise!
> 
> I'm jujutherubberduckie if you want to visit/ask questions on tumblr. Also (pretty please) feel free to check out my other work!
> 
> Love you forever~

**Chapter 2**

When Bucky Barnes first met Sarah Rogers, she sent Stella to a neighbor to deliver bandages and spoke to him privately. Sarah Rogers told 5 year old James Buchanan Barnes that God hadn’t promised Stella a second that she hadn’t already lived. The slightest cold, a wrong hit to the head, Stella could fall at any moment. Her body wasn’t half as strong as her soul was. Bucky promised Ms. Rogers that he’d make sure Stella was alright, she was his best friend. 

Twelve years later, Bucky sat by Stella’s bedside while Ms. Rogers was at work. Pneumonia. Again. It was particularly bad this time, which was saying something after the Winter of ‘28. All Bucky could think was how stupid he had been. All this time, Ms. Rogers would scold Stell and look right at him afterward.  _ Not one of the breaths you take isn’t fought for, doesn’t matter if it doesn’t hurt. _ Why had he  _ waited _ ? They were supposed to have  _ time _ . It didn’t matter what the Docs said, Stella wasn’t ever on the brink of death. She had fire in her eyes. She scowled just as fiercely on a sickbed as she did in an alleyway. 

But pneumonia changes things. It changes a lot. Stell hadn’t the energy to scowl, she barely had the energy to turn her head when she cried from the pain. Bucky chewed his lip and stared at a dark mark on the wood floor. His forehead had put it there when Stella’s well placed foot whacked his spleen. He’s loved her forever. Bucky’s every breath was deep from his belly, the better to help her with asthma attacks. He shaped his whole life around the irregular beat of Stella Rogers’ heart. He was so  _ stupid- _

“Stop chewin’.” Stella rasped.

Bucky looked up to see her eyes half lidded. The once bright blue was glazed and pale. Her pulse was too fast in her throat and her wheezing gurgled. Still, the corner of her mouth looked like it was trying to turn up. Bucky swallowed his heart and played his part.

“You picked a helluva time to be interested in my mouth, doll.” He drawled, tilting his chin just so. Any girl on the block would’ve twittered the moment he spoke. Stella’s unimpressed blink was more like seven seconds to rest her eyes. 

“Not y’r girl, Buck.” she slurred. 

Bucky grit his teeth and all at once it was too much. She was dying. She was dying and he’d bought all the medicine he could. He had stolen all the medicine that she needed. Bucky had kissed and flirted and bribed and wheedled all he needed to get a Doc to show up. And Stella was dying. He was at her bedside, alone, because Ms. Rogers wanted to ask at the hospital just one more time. Because neither of them could handle the thought of Stella dying by herself. He was seventeen years old and he’d never seen a sunrise half as beautiful as Stella Rogers with a split lip. He had never once  _ tasted  _ Stella Rogers’ split lip. She was dying right in front of his eyes and he’d been so  _ stupid _ . He’d spent his whole life watching her nearly die in one way or another, and he’d never once thought that she wouldn’t outlive him. 

He’d never imagined that after that one day, after they figured it out, he wouldn’t have the rest of forever. To taste blood and sunlight. To cradle her bruised body as her fiery soul pulled him closer. She was going to die and he’d never have her the way he wanted her. But damn if he didn’t have her the way he needed her. Damn if he was gonna let her die still pretending that they weren’t practically one person the way they were in each other's pockets. He was hers as much as he could be anyone’s and he  _ knew  _  her. He  _ knew  _ it was the same. And in a few hours that wouldn’t be true because she’d be dead.  

“Yeah, you are.” Bucky said, “You’re my girl, Stell and the whole world knows it. Just like I’m your fella.” He was breathing hard by the end of it and his heart felt like it was in his temples. Stella squinted and the little line between her eyebrows sank a bit deeper. Bucky took her cold hand and held it tight as he dared. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles and stared her in the eyes, grey into blue, waiting.

“Askin’ ‘r tellin’?” Stella wheezed. Bucky snorted and let his eyes roll.

“Be my girl, Stella Genevieve Rogers. Please?” he asked softly, trying not to beg. He just wanted to hear her say it. Just the once. Bucky held his breath, memorized the moment. The rattle of her chest and the flutter of her pulse. The smell of herbs and sick and the sound of Brooklyn at night through the thin walls. Stella hummed and closed her eyes. Her hand tightened on his and Bucky recognized that she was falling asleep. His stomach sank.

“Ask me when ‘m not dreamin’.” she muttered. 

“Sure thing, doll.” he choked, tears falling from his eyes. 

***

She was not going to ask. Stella was sketching Mrs. Matthews’ cat and she was  _ not  _ gonna ask what Bucky was doing on the other side of the room. It was fine. He would do whatever he was going to do. Stella had nearly died a couple of months ago but she was fine now. Everything was fine, life was back to usual, hell that  _ was _ life as usual. And… there was Bucky’s stupid clenched jaw staring back at her from the page. She slammed the sketchbook shut and set it down on the windowsill. Bucky was two feet away before she even lifted her head. 

“What’s-”

“You’re hovering.” Stella interrupted. He immediately started to chew on his lip. Not even guiltily, he was...brooding. Bucky didn’t brood. He sulked or grouched but he didn’t stew on whatever it was and not say a word about it. She had no idea what he was even upset over. It was strange. “Whatever’s got your knickers twisted up by your throat, I wanna know and I wanna know  _ now. _ ” 

“It’s nothin’, Stell.” Bucky started to back away and Stella stood from her chair to stalk after him. 

“I can hardly take a piss without you offering to hold my dress.” She was gaining steam now, getting it off her chest. For every step back, Stella pressed forward- glaring up at him, almost yelling. “You punched MacNally the other day before I could even say anything to him. You  _ herd _ me everywhere I go and glare at anyone who sniffs in my direction. I don’t  _ want or need _ to be coddled, Buck. How many times I do I need to tell you that  _ I ain’t your- _ ”

“I want you to be.” He blurted. Stella froze. They were about a foot apart and her head was tilted back to stare him in the face and she couldn’t move. Her whole body went hot and her eyes widened. Bucky’s jaw rippled with tension. He looked like he was in pain. “I told you, then I asked you, then I thought you died. And Stell, your hearts beatin’ so fast you could die right now, you coulda died twenty seconds ago just sketchin’. And I just-” His rambling cut off as he closed his eyes and breathed for a moment. 

Stella realized that she should probably breathe too. She took a slow breath in and- and- ah fuck _.  _  This was not going to help her case. She tilted her head down to try and coax air in her lungs. The vice around her chest gripped tighter even as she willed it to loosen. Strong arms wrapped around her, turning her around. She vaguely registered Bucky’s chest slowly expanding along her back. Stella tried to copy him- she knew how to do this, this was normal-  _ fuck _ . She was just so  _ angry _ . She felt the tears burn and knew it wasn’t her asthma, knew she was making it worse.  _ Fuck _ . She was gonna die. Maybe in ten minutes or a year but she couldn’t have more than this. And Bucky was brooding ‘cause he wanted it. By some insane trick of the light he wanted her and she was gonna die. 

It wasn’t fair. It was worse than being skinny and small and sick and underestimated. She couldn’t punch this in the face. She couldn’t tell it off or outlive it. Stella was going to die. She was going to die and leave Bucky and it wasn’t fair to have more than this because it was bad enough now. Stella went dizzy and her skin was getting tighter and tighter. She was going to die and she couldn’t stop crying.

Bucky lifted her, walked to the couch, and sat her on the floor. Stella raised her arms obligingly as he sat on the couch behind her, underarms resting on his thighs. He rubbed her arms as she trembled, the firm ministrations coaxing her to ease back into the cradle of his body. Steady hands brushed her hair back from her hairline to her neck. Stella focused on the warmth of him, his calluses catching on her skin. This was her natural. Everything else could wait. The sky was blue, they each fit in their places, the world still turned and Bucky was talking her down. It was easier than breathing.  _ Now, breathe _ , Stella told herself.

Her next breath was a touch fuller. She closed her eyes and leaned into Bucky, letting him and the couch hold her upright. Stella let herself fall into the rhythm of Bucky’s hands and tried to match her breaths to it. Crying was for the middle of the night when she didn’t need her lungs for anything else. She wasn’t weak, she just had lousy timing. And that was okay. Slowly, it could have been hours or minutes, her clenched fists relaxed. The vice in her chest eased from Probable Death to Shitty Week. Stella realized that Bucky wasn’t speaking nonsense encouragement like usual. His voice was still foggy over the blood rushing in her head.

“-won’t talk about it again, I swear. I’ll stop driving you nuts too, I mean it. It just is what it is and I’m a pretty smart guy, ya know, I was onto something there.” Bucky rambled. His voice was huskier than usual, as if he’d cried too. “Long as we both know, it’s between us and God and there’s no need to shout it from the bridge. You’re my best friend, Stell, there’s no need to change-”

“What- talk- about?” Stella choked out, turning her head to hear better. 

Bucky’s right hand traced the line of her neck down to her shoulder. Easily -as if it was one of a million things that they just  _ did _ \- he leaned down to press his lips to her temple for a moment. She could feel every prick of his stubble. Every line of his lips. Stella could imagine the beat of his heart pressing through his skin. She leaned into it without thought and blinked her eyes open when he pulled away an inch.

“There’s nothin’ to talk about Stell.” Bucky whispered in her good ear. “Focus on your lungs; we’re supposed to walk to the pictures tomorrow.” Bucky returned to rubbing her shoulders like usual. Stella faced forward and leaned her head back, like usual. She sunk into his warmth and let herself drift. He would meet a dame eventually. A tall, healthy dame with all her teeth. A dame who could hold him close and promise him every bit of joy he’s ever deserved. A dame who didn’t come with a death certificate pre-signed. And if Stella loved him for the rest of her days, well, that was between her and God, wasn’t it?


	3. Push, Pull, Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how people say the characters did what they wanted to do instead of what was outlined? Yeah. Stella and Bucky had Opinions. In the end, hours later, I am very satisfied with the result, but it was difficult to say the least. 
> 
> Brief warning for canonical character death. It's off screen but Stella is pretty torn up about it. Let me know what you think? I'm a little self conscious about the fluidity of the chapter. 
> 
> Thanks for all of the kudos and the comments, really I appreciate it. I swear every kudo nudged me towards pecking at this and getting the chapter out. Please do visit me on tumblr, I'm Jujutherubberduckie, I reply to messages with very long excited responses. Happy Holidays!!

It was a lovely day in Spring. It was perfectly temperate: not too humid and not a cloud in the sky. It was a beautiful day, Stella was wearing a beautiful dress, her breathing was at its best and her mother was dead. It was almost funny. Stella coughed her lungs bloody at least once a year. But Sarah Rogers, a saint in her own right, died a terrible, slow, wasting death from a bloody cough. Of course, Stella hadn’t planned for this, mostly because there was nothing to do. She couldn’t burden Bucky’s family with her illnesses. She couldn’t afford to live in a decent women’s home. 

Stella was not afraid to live alone or in a rundown women’s home. She’d probably end up scrapping more often than even she would like, but, well. It was a beautiful day for the world to crash down. Stella stood in front of their-  _ the-  _ door and stared at it. She needed a key. The key was in her little purse, the one her mother gave her on her 21st birthday. Was that just a half year ago? She was in a lovely blue dress with a little blue purse and her hair was curled and pinned nicely and her mother was dead. Stella was frozen outside of the home her mother died to afford, and she needed to get the key. The key was in her purse and her purse was in her hand and she was in front of the door, but she needed-

Bucky’s warmth lined her back as he reached around her. The spare key slid into the lock and he jimmied it to open. The entire apartment was gilded in light from the open curtains. It did not look like a portal to abject depression, but Stella felt her stomach fall anyway. Bucky did not move to push or pull her either way. He stood behind her, steadily, and Stella was exhausted.  _ Between them and God _ . Well, her and God weren’t on speaking terms lately, for all it might send Buck gray before his time. She was still alive, her mother was dead, and Bucky hadn’t left her side for a moment. None of these things made sense and she was tired of trusting God with fragile things. He didn’t know what to do with them.

Stella braced herself and walked into her home. She stopped in the middle of the room, taking in the small space. The worn out furnishings were clean, someone must have done it when she wasn’t looking. She hadn’t looked in a while. Not since Ma stopped being strong enough to leave the bed. It had probably been Bucky, and it was only a matter of time un-

“You listen to me, Stella Rogers: this has gone on long enough.” Bucky was near the closed door still. Stella didn’t turn around; one look at those sad grey eyes and she’d cry again. She was  _ so tired _ of crying and she  _ didn’t  _ want to have this fight. “It’s stupid, it hurts, and the both of us are too old to keep jumpin’ around it.” He pleaded, asking her to turn around without saying the words.

“Not now, Buck.” she whispered, willing him to stay by the door. At the sound of his footsteps, she closed her eyes and let her chin hit her chest. She predicted (five) then counted his steps until he reached her (five). She predicted (two) then counted his breaths as he took her hands in his (two). Stella opened her eyes and traced the lines of their hands clasped together (twenty seconds to sketch). Their knuckles wore matching bruises and scars. Slowly, as if worried he would startle her, Bucky knelt on one knee before her. She scowled a bit because of the forced eye contact and he stared calmly back. His jaw was set and his eyes wide. It was the expression that Bucky wore when he wasn’t gonna take no for an answer. He was going to insist that she move in with the Barnes’ but she wouldn’t. She couldn’t put the struggle of Keepers on them. Stella took a half step back to pull away, but he did not budge. 

“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me, not as your best guy,” he said. “It’s fine. I don’t have to kiss you to take care of you. I’ve managed my whole life, I can survive the disappointment.” His voice was steady and soft, same as when he quoted Sunday Mass. Bucky stared into her eyes like truth and Stella grit her teeth, trying and failing to pull away. Her whole body was tense but she couldn’t look away from him. For all that he looked immovable, Bucky’s eyes were soft and inviting. Since she could remember, they had simply grabbed one another, pushed or pulled to meet an end. Bucky knelt before her and begged her with his eyes to fall into him. He wouldn’t let her run, but he did not push and he did not pull. 

“Ma’s gone.” Stella’s voice broke. She didn’t mean to say it. She didn’t even know if there was a train of thought to go with it. It just was. It wasn’t going anywhere or changing any time soon. Bucky knelt before her, asking her, what, to let him go? Asking her what she wanted of him? And all Stella knew was Ma wasn’t going to come through the door behind them.

“I know, doll. I know, your Ma’s gone but I’m  _ here  _ and I want-”

" _ I’m  _ **_not_ ** _ gonna die on you-” _ Just like that she wasn’t hazy anymore and she could feel every cell in her body, shaking, horrified. She couldn’t do this, not now, not after Ma. 

“People  _ die _ , Stella!” Bucky spoke over her, his hold was relentless. “And you know what, I don’t care if you die today, tomorrow or next fucking week. It won't be with an empty belly or gettin' taken advantage of in some _backend alley_. I’m not  _ sittin’  _ here two inches away from you, watchin’ you love me, wantin’ you with  _ everything  _ in me-”

"Then  _ stop,  _ Buck. Can’t you see you’re hurtin’ us both?”

“You will fight every scrap from here to the  _ goddamn  _ Grand Canyon,” he said each word like it hurt. “but you won’t even  _ reach _ for this, Stella. If you’re waiting for me to fall in love with someone else, you’re  _ wasting our time! _ ”

“ _ I am going to die on you.”  _  She didn’t know how else to say it. She couldn’t imagine a hole in her heart the size of James Buchanan Barnes. She didn’t know how she was surviving the hole that Ma left. Stella couldn’t hurt Bucky even more, she couldn’t-

“When you die,” he replied soothingly, “I want you to die with everything you’ve ever wanted spilling from your hands. If that ain't me, it ain't me, but it's not _cold an' alone_ either.” Bucky’s eyebrows were pulled together so tightly it looked like it hurt. Stella took a half step forward and let the tension leave her arms. She looked down into his face and traced his lines with her eyes. The vein throbbing in his temple, down his clean shaven jaw and the dimple in his chin. Everything she’d ever wanted.

Stella thought about the first time Bucky read the word ‘indomitable’ in a book. He wouldn’t shut up about it for days. Even now, she loved that word, loved that he thought her  _ impossible to overcome _ . She fought for every breath most days, she fought her heartbeat, she fought the expectations that the world placed on her. It was dizzying, to think that she could be more than spit in the eyes of God and everyone. She could be indomitable  _ and…  _ and his. 

Her mind made up, Stella pushed her hand forward instead of pulling it away. Bucky let it go, his own hand falling to his side as he kept hold of her other one. Trembling, Stella pressed her thumb into the dimple in his chin. Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed, and his lips twisted to the side in an aborted smile. Stella watched the flush in his cheeks spread to his nose as his jaw started to work. He thought she was going to say no. Any second now, he would start to chew on his lip as if he hadn’t been abusing it all day. 

She leaned down slowly, eyes open, waiting. Sure enough, Bucky’s eyes opened a slit at first and then wider than she’d ever seen them. Stella began to smile. After all this time she could still surprise him, God knows how. She let her eyes drift closed as their lips pressed together and it was like they had done it a thousand times. The inevitable fall on the end of every high since she’d first wondered what it would be like to melt into him. Stella sighed and felt Bucky inhale immediately after. She let the backs of her fingers brush the underside of his chin and went dizzy all over again at his gentle hum. 

Bucky drew back and they gazed at each other. Stella felt powerful like she never had before, to know that no one else could make him look this way. He stood slowly, letting her step back, but then stepping into her space. Stella boldly pressed her chest into his, clutching the lapel of his suit even as he did not let her hand go. Bucky leaned further into her space and she wrapped her other arm around his waist to catch her balance, while his hand cradled the back of her neck. 

With her head tilted all the way back to look him in the eyes and her balance unsteady, Stella had never felt so small. She was hyper aware of the strength in his back, arms and hands as he held her up. Just as Bucky leaned in to meet her lips with his, Stella arched back a touch further, letting him bear more of her weight. She looked him in the eyes and grinned with all of her teeth. 

“Be my fella, James Buchanan Barnes,” she whispered against his mouth. Bucky’s grin was crooked and he huffed a laugh.

“You askin’ or tellin’, doll?”

“Bucky.” 

“Stell.”

“Marry me.” She could get used to feeling every single muscle in his body freeze. She could live her whole life watching exactly the way his eyes widen. She could measure a lifetime in the space it takes him to breathe again. 

“Yes,” he exhaled, inhaling her next breath as their mouths met. Stella pressed forward, shifting so that she could wrap her arms around his neck and run her hands through his hair. Bucky’s arm wrapped around her waist, one hand passing up her back. Half a breath and her feet were off the ground. The kiss deepened; Bucky tasted like whiskey and she was flying but already thinking of falling. Falling into the gentlest fella this side of the bridge, crawling into him and staying there, wrapping herself in Bucky Barnes and spitting in God’s eye anytime he so much as threatened to tear her out. 


End file.
